Racing the Infection
Log Title: Racing the Infection Characters: Backblast, Folly, Inferno, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Scales, Springer, Warlord, Quarantine, Flatbed, Gangbuster, Dispatch Location: Iacon Medical Center Date: May 24, 2019 TP: Nucleosis TP Summary: Backblast and Scales continue their work to find a cure, with help, but as the nucleosis spreads, its victims grow crueler and more violent, including Optimus Prime himself. Category:2019 Category:Logs As logged by '' Scales '''Log session starting at 17:46:22 on Friday, 24 May 2019.' Scales skitters into medical for a day's work, looking a bit droopy, as if she expects somebody to jump her any minute. Backblast is, on the other hand, listening to a datapad. "What the everloving frack does Prime think he's doin'?" Scales hops up on a stool and curls up a bit. "I just saw th'broadcast, too." Backblast nods "I'm... that's not the Autobot way. Something's wrong." Backblast shakes his head a little. "I... I know I'm not very good at telling good from bad, right from wrong. But even I know that's wrong." Scales grabs the end of her tail and frets at it. "Yeah." She sighs. "So... the pathogen, maybe? Or a substitute?" She taps her claws. "Do.. do you suppose anybody else might be gone that way?" Backblast looks thoughtful "It's... possible." he says, snorting. "You think I should tranq Prime and drag him in?" Scales ums. "Maybe we should check an' see if Ratchet's willing to call 'im in." Backblast looks nods thoughtfully. "....yeah that's probably a good start." Scales looks around. "How's your progress on isolatin' those compounds?" Backblast smiles "Progress is good, now that I know what the original nucleon molecule looks like." He pulls up the data he got from A3's lab... data he's sent to Scales, without telling her. "Check it out on your datapad. I think... I can isolate and concentrate it enough to start working on testing counter-agents in the computer." Scales gets out her datapadd and takes a look. "oooh... yeah, I found some of what I expected when I was doin' my own lookin', so I have an idea of how th'thing works. Between this and what I've got... we could at least slow it down, I think." Backblast nods with a grin "Exactly what I was thinking." He says. Scales flips her tailtip. "We're gonna be disobeyin' orders, jus' curin' this. But I'm not workin' on makin' it worse." GAME: Backblast PASSES a DEXTERITY roll of Average difficulty. Backblast nods in agreement, sipping from a mug of cold tea next to him. He gives a disgusted look, and then pitches the mug into the washer with astonishing accuracy. "Nor me. I joined the Autobots because you... because I know I'm broken, and you guys hold me back. Not egg me on." Scales hmms, looking through the data but with her mind mostly elsewhere. "I wonder if Wheeljack would really go for it or not.." Backblast shrugs a little "Dunno. Some scientists kinda just get concentrated on the idea of doing research and rely on others to make sure they do the right thing. He'd... probably go through with it, then later be wracked by existential guilt over it." Scales sets down the datapadd. "Yeah... that kinda sounds like him. Tho I don' know 'im all that well, even though he helped put me t'gether." Backblast nods softly and starts brewing up tea. "Yeah... he's not around much." Scales nods. "A lot of the higher ups are jus... busy. Things t'do." She sighs. Backblast nods with a soft sigh "Yup." Scales hmms. "Okay. Got work t'do. An' copies t'make of the data." She grins at Backblast. "Don't wanna get set back if somebody decides to hide inf'mation alla sudden." Backblast nods "No worries." He says. "I completely agree with that, I'll send you backups of everything I get." Scales starts working on organizing data and getting it copied onto data chits, intent on her work now that she's decided what to do. Backblast sighs and returns to working on his own data, running simulations of a possible vaccine After getting everything copied onto chits, Scales stretches. "Okay, that's the info so far." She takes one and offers it to Backblast. "I'm gonna go hide th'rest real quick." <> Flatbed says, "Looks like the fuel purges are as complete as they're going to get. Does Medical have any need for any more Nucleon-infected Energon?" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Yes, bring it to medical under biosecurity level 5" <> Flatbed says, "Ah...alright. Its a full tanker though. Just....just let us know the moment we can incinerate it." <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Yeah of course." Outside the medical lab of Iacon, Flatbed starts to slowly handguide the tank of infected Energon to the connection port. Quarantine, one of the few Bot contagion experts, in his full environmental bio-forcefield begins the work of connecting up hoses. Backblast moves to the spectroscope; he's run enough simulations now that the samples have arrived. "Scales, you ready?" He says. "Remember, this crap's very dangerous, we do -not- want any spillage." Backblast adds "Soon as you're set, let Flatbed know." The mini-bot Folly is an odd duck, which is to say that she's about as unusual as most of the mini-bots. She peers at the flooring, her one large optic scanning a bit out of sync with her smaller eye. "What's that?" She bends down to actually look at the medbay flooring, fascinated by something that can't be seen. Scales looks up at Backblast from her work. "Oh! Yes, I think so." She goes to a tool cabinet and roots around for the proper kit. "It's prob'ly safer if you're doin' mosta the grabbin'. Yer arms are longer'n mine." There's the tha-thunk from outside, as the connection pipe is secured. <> Quarantine says, "Connection is secure. I'm staying on site, and keep back the lookie-loos." Backblast nods happily, looking over at Folly with a nod. "Dunno." He says, nodding to Scales."Yeah... plus, while I don't have hazmat qualifications, I do have experience in working with dangerous chemicals. Folly, watch my back, yeh?" He sniffs, getting on the comm <> Folly says, "Am I a Lookie-Loo?" <> Scales says, "We're ready in medical. Thanks, Quarantine!" <> Quarantine says, "Yes. Yes you are." <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Confirmed, Quarrantine, open the valves slowly. We've got a secure canister in here - we shouldn't need more than ten decacubes."" <> Quarantine says, "Ten decacubes. Roger. Slow hatch engaged." <> Warlord says, "If ya need extra hands, lemme know" Folly raises her head, that o.O look on her face giving her a very ditzy look. She looks to the sniper turn medic, "I would be very happy to help, as soon as I know what this particle emission is wanting." She manages a very sincere look, as she adds, "It did ask first, after all. It's only proper." Folly turns her head to look towards the wall. "Oh. Its getting angry." Scales tilts her head at Folly. "Particle emission? Which kind of emission? There's lots." Backblast blinks a little. "Uhh..." He says. "Can you ask him to wait? We've got lives on the line here, and flow's started." THA-THOOM! The Medical facility shudders just a hair from the location of just outside the wall, what flow was entering the complex, slows to a halt. <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "....what the everloving shit was that?" <> Quarantine says through static, ".......sta by primus....h.as.......line....fall b..." <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Say again? I'm boosting the gain." <> Warlord says, "What's happening?" Security cameras in the area show the problem, the tank outside has ruptured! The pressurized Nucleon-infected energon spews up in an arc, and splatters onto the ground. <> Quarantine says through static, "CONTAINMENT. IS. BREACHED!" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "...fuck." <> Quarantine says through static, "I need med crews outside stat. Operations required!" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Evacuate all adjacent sectorss, lock down the...crap! On the way." <> Gangbuster says "Acknowledged. City police on their way." Scales looks at the cameras, then looks at Backblast. "Grab some AB foam as we go," she counsels. <> Quarantine says "Potential infection risk. I've got twenty civvies in the area. Block off drainage routes!" <> Upshot says, "Give me the most likely junctions and I'll see about cutting things off further out." <> Warlord says, "Fuck.Give me a minute, I'll get to damage control." <> Quarantine says "Iacon P.D. on scene. Crowd control, people! I need energy dampeners on point!" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "I'll be staying here to work on... fucking... I hate doing science in a hurry. Someone work on sealing the drainage system and blocking off the pipes..." <> Gangbuster says "You've got it. Requesting additional support" <> Warlord says, "M' On it" <> Dispatch says, "Acknowledged." <> Dispatch says, "Carrier 22-31. Disengage from standard patrol, move to assist specialists on site at Iacon Plaza." Folly fell to the floor when the tank ruptured, which is standard for her. She pulls herself back up, and looks over the area. "Oh...it seems to have left." She looks up to Backblast, "I'm free to help you then." Scales growls under her breath, but there's no time to trace the elusive emission now. There's work to do. "Let's clear some slabs, then." She looks at Folly. "Do you know quarantine protocols?" Folly clasps her hands together as she looks at Scales. "Ah. I'm not medical certified, but there's many energy chemicals that I...ah..." She pauses, refraining from sounding too boisterous or competent, "uhm...I study energy sciences.." She shuffles her feet as she looks aside. Scales ahs. "If you're kinda familiar already.." She snags a datapadd and uses it to pull up a list. "Here. Stick to these. We gotta get some places ready for possible infected." Backblast turns suddenly away from the tanks, taking one and drawing a sample from it. "For expediency's sake, I'm downgrading to biosecurity level 3. We either fix this, or none of us leave the medbay... if you have any objections, now is the time to voice them." He says. He puts samples into the centrifuge as fast as he can. He urges the spectrograph to warm up faster. "C'mon..." Nucleon seems to be bonding with the patient's systems overall, more than just the standard absorption pattern that energon/nucleon is supposed to do. This is probably the cause for the seizing up, and that means there may be a temporary vacciene that you could inject into a person before they handle infection, where the Nucleon can't adhere to anything. A little more work is needed before you can test that out though, but that'll mean progress and most importantly, quarantines can be lifted." Warlord comes into the area. "Hey, guys." he says, staying rather calm through this. Chaos seems to be his normal state of being so this sort of problem is just Tuseday for hi. "Hey I got t' thinkin." the last Arachnobot states. "Im a weird design. A earthbuild with a copied cpu for a brain. Maybe I'd be a good test subject for stuff. Cause I dont know if Cybertronian plagues effect me." Folly nods most politely to Backblast, perhaps even a bit eager to lend a hand. "I would be most happy to assist." She takes the extra datapad, which lists the basic no-contact necessity of Nucleon work. After a few moments, she turns it sideways. GAME: Backblast PASSES a DEXTERITY roll of Very High difficulty. <> Quarantine says "Are you needing these infected in medical?" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "Not... yet. No room." <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "But contain them and begin triage. We... are working on something." <> Quarantine says "IPD has them corralled. We're working on stopping further groundwater contamination." Scales nods to Folly and looks up at Warlord. "Oh, good! Big arms with lots of reach!" She pulls up another datapadd with instructions. "Can you play nurse and get things set up while I work with Backblast?" She offers the large Autobot the padd. Folly gingerly starts to clear off area, by being very careful to grab each individual thing off of the tables needed cleared. She tilts her head at one of the samples, and pauses. "This one is mad." Folly, of course, is an Eneraetherologist, meaning she studies the innate sub-intelligent 'emotions' of energy waves. While this may or may not be hokum, her spectrum eyes do assist greatly in analysis. GAME: Folly FAILS a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty. Warlord smiles to Scales. "Yeah, of course I can. I make a good nurse." He says with a chuckle as he takes the pad in oneof his spider arms. He's rarely in robot mode, though today he makes an exception. The spidertake transforms and moves to get the supplies. GAME: Scales FAILS a LEADERSHIP roll of Average difficulty. GAME: Warlord FAILS a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty. The medical team wasn't ready for this sort of emergency situation, and the research into some sort of short-term vaccine, while theoretical, wasn't ready for treatment. Backblast, a trained veteran of the battlefront, keeps his cool as he switches gears to test. Eventually though, test subjects are brought in as the area is cleared and readied. The basic spill is contained, though Quarantine is going over the area a second time, as well as IPD. THREE HOURS LATER. At the very least, there's some new data about initial contamination to work with, but the Bots now have to extrapolate on what they have from patient zero and Imager, to cut off what is happening to the mecha in the sickbay. Your music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dINm51076I Backblast looks at Folly "That's one way to put it." He says. "Nucleon, natural nucleon, makes the imbiber very angry..." He watches the machine wake up fully and then takes a fresh sample. He draws out the thin, rancid yellow layer of nucleon and puts it into the spectrograph, letting it run. As the results start to scroll, he reads the datapad provided by Folly. "Scales, uh, right..." He says. "You're good at patterns, right? I need you to look at the shape of the molecule that'll come up on this screen, and... what you want to do is make something that blocks up any of the shaped voids." He does the same thing from the opposite direction, working on chemicals that will bind to the nucleon and hinder its operation instead. Folly folds down and forward, her dress rings moving up to form an Armilllary Sphere GAME: Backblast FAILS a TECHNICAL roll of Immense difficulty. GAME: Backblast PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Immense difficulty. Folly has gotten the brief of the situation at hand, of course with the area under medical lockdown, she's not leaving anyway. Folly does her best to not handle the actual samples, instead working remotely. Over the past few hours, her analysis hasn't really helped much, mostly because its not helpful from a medical standpoint. "Hmmmmm." She says as the Armillary Sphere adjusts and shifts, the strange dials and rings on it adjusting as it somehow reads the energy spectrums off of the samples. GAME: Folly FAILS a TECHNICAL roll of Above Average difficulty. GAME: Folly PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Above Average difficulty. Scales nods to Backblast and sets her little mind to work... less on the technical aspects, and more on resolving the puzzle. She flicks through readouts and screens, seeking gaps and ways to fill them. Her tail twitches as she works, but the rest of her is unusually still, everything focused for the moment. GAME: Scales PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Very High difficulty. <> Folly says, "Oh, I see. Its looking for electrical sparks, isn't it?" <> Folly says, "To adhere to? Yes? That's what changes it?" <> Para-Droppable PITA Backblast says, "...interesting." <> Scales says, "Yes... an' those c'n be fed." <> Warlord says, "What, the nucleowhatsis?" Warlord continues gathering supplies. "Have we written down everyone who'se shown signs of infection? Here. Lemme give you one of my fuel lines." He rips into his own arm, ripping out a batch of circuits as if he doesnt even feel it. "We could test it on this , see if it works." GAME: Warlord FAILS an ENDURANCE roll of Average difficulty. Folly ; would blanche at that horror if she were in root mode. <> Folly says, "Oh no! Warlord's hurt!" <> CMO Ratchet says, "I'm on my way!" <> Warlord says, "Eh. Warlord's fine, just giving some circuits for study." GAME: Warlord PASSES an ENDURANCE roll of Average difficulty. Folly's thoughts about the electrical basis of Nucleosis leads to some thoughts. It might suggest that everything looked at in samples are AFTER infection, nothing before. Which gives the crew some new angle to work off of. Whether or not they find a way to nullify electricity in the body is another matter. Backblast spends a few hours doing more straight up experimentation, working with both possible situations. The hard part is guessing what the infection was like before it was introduced to electricity, but Backblast starts to get the feeling that if the Nucleon can't attach to any part of the mecha body, that it could be flushed. So how does one coat the internal systems to stop that? Scales is crunching data, which leads to an inevitable optical flare up, time after time. It may not be her specialty, but she notes an occasional variance in the chemicals. Each one drawn from a different mecha...each mecha with a different power output. So the amount of electricity output affects things. Warlord's wiring provides some decent enough fodder to work with. Earthmade mecha ARE different, yes, but you're dealing with post infection samples. ' '((For later study, recreating the original formula will be a priority, or recovering it from Pharma)) SIX HOURS LATER Between the model's she's examing and Folly's observation, Scales gets an idea. Now, to make it work. She taps a few notes to herself on her console, sending that to Backblast as if he can understand what she's thinking, and then begins to work on making her idea a reality as best she can. She barely notices anybody else in the room, perfectly intent on trying to realize her thought without distractions. It's a complicated one. GAME: Scales PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Immense difficulty. Enercoffee is on the turbokettle as the Bots work into the cyberlate shift... The Armillary Sphere shifts, refolding back into Folly. Folly has been staring without optical refreshing at a vial of Nucleon for three hours. She hasn't moved an inch in that time frame, her hands at the edge of the table, which sits a bit higher up than she, so she's looking upward. Finally, she starts to whisper, those with fine audial systems can hear her words. Backblast looks thoughtful and, instead of trying to directly develop an antidote for it, changes tack and starts working on way to prevent the nucleon from adhering. He gets a sudden thought and opens Kingslayer's magazine, pulling out one of those evil purple shells of his and - with extreme care - unscrewing the fuse. He decants the contents into a reinforced vial - one of the ones developed for the Dark Energon antidote, slicing a thin sliver out of the shell's body. It's a transparent material, loosely based on the substance that energon cubes are based on, with additives from Encore's energon brewing. A sample of the nucleon toxin is dropped onto it, while Backblast watches through a binocular microscope, half an ear turned to see if he can pick up Folly's words. GAME: Backblast FAILS a FIREPOWER roll of Extreme difficulty. A few medtechs duck when the Kingslayer gets opened. At that point, Ratchet comes into the lab to see how his medics (and their helper friend) are faring. He's immediately arrested by Backblast's unusual methods and makes a beeline to his station to investigate. "You have to tell me what you're working on," Ratchet says curiously. "Whatever it is, if it works, I'll buy you an engex." GAME: Folly PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty. Backblast looks up at Ratchet "Seeing if the toxin can stick to the outer shell of Kingslayer's anti-fallen rounds." He explains. "It's a complicated substance, see - a mixture of cube polymer with some select elements out of engex brewers' kegs... it's got to be special stuff, because the rounds that use it are... shall we say, unusually hazardous. I'm just not able to get a clear view down the scope as I apply the sample. If it doesn't stick, I can work on isolating what's making it work like that and... maybe work that into whatever genius ideas the rest of you come up with." Warlord pauses. "Huh. Well I guess that wasnt working. Would a sample of my energon help ? if ya wanna inject me with it , remember Im a pretty violent individual without it but. Im ok for it under surveliance." GAME: Warlord PASSES a COURAGE roll of Average difficulty. Ratchet nods. "Very imaginative thinking. At that level, though, the chance for contaminants is high. Here - try it under this hood. It should shield your experiments from any electrical or magnetic radiation as well as physical impurities." Ratchet takes the dangerous risk of patting Backblast on the shoulder. "Let me know if there's any other way I can help. You guys are going a bang-up job." GAME: Backblast PASSES a FIREPOWER roll of Extreme difficulty. Even while offering friendly advice, Ratchet sounds distant, part of his mind obviously somewhere else. Its not a Brainstorm level idea, but all this intense work that Scales has focusing on, has started to yield results. Results that have yet to be shared... Folly seems to be more interested in the nature of Nucleon, trying to glean insight at the sub-atomic level. Eneraetherology is an esoteric art, which is as mysterious as it is possibly useless? ''' '''Backblast and Ratchet co-conspire as Backblast's radical notion of using a completely different element, a potential fix for Dark Energon? While the two are quite different in use, there's no denying that the protection needed when dealing with both is similar. SEVEN HOURS LATER: Scales' epiphany starts to coalesce. The idea was 'dampen the amount of electricity in the mech, put them in shutdown mode, and flush the system!' This won't help any mecha who've already had a full infection, but potentially this could prevent any future problems, and give the bots a leg up when dealing with contamination. Scales gets a mixture set up and swirls it in a test tube, checking the consistency. "Okay... I've got some stuff in here that'll kinda act like antibodies- where the nucleon mix is tryin' t'pick up energy, it'll cling to this instead. At least enough to slow things down, buy more time." She begins to carefully load the substance into ampules for dissemination. "I only have a little so far, but making more isn't too hard now that I've got my notes.." GAME: Scales PASSES a DEXTERITY roll of Average difficulty. The first batch of test subjects lay in shutdown mode on a few unpowered slabs. It'd not make sense to recharge them as Nucleon is attempted to be flushed from their bodies....Hours pass as the crew test and wait for signs... Ratchet stays with his techs, offering advice and support as he can, but he's nervous, sneaking nips of engex when he thinks no one can see him. Warlord, while nobody immediately takes him up on his offer, adds a bit of extra determination to the medical crew. There were mechs willing to risk their lives to find a cure for others. His bravery subtley helps inspire the rest as the hours drag on. Backblast blinks at Ratchet and then turns back to the scope, bringing the hood over the scope and getting to work. "Investigate Prime." he mutters, very quietly. "Seen his latest broadcast? That's not the Optimus Prime that convinced me - me, for Primus' sake- to try and be a better mech. He looks at Scales. "...kid you're a genius. That'll slow it down." He says. Then he works on testing what individual part of it is that's preventing the adherence. "Well I'll be fucked." He says, quietly. "It's nanotubes, that's what does it. It's like... it's like a lilly leaf, or a gecko's foot in reverse." ''' '''He stops Scales before the second batch is done, handing her some vials. "This... should help prevent re-infection." He says. "Actually providing a prophylactic effect; combined with the shutdown-and-flush method you've come up with, it *should* clear it entirely out of their system." GAME: Backblast FAILS a TECHNICAL roll of High difficulty. Folly is mostly an observer at this stage. Electro-muting chemicals are fairly common, so this was more about medical theory than creation at this point. Still, she makes a decent enough observer, watching the stream of energon flush out of systems, and reporting in quietly as she does. GAME: Folly PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty. Ratchet mutters to Backblast, "... I'm... might... to... and Elita..." A few more hours go by quietly. This was the waiting game, the hardest part. The sun sets, and rises again, before the flush is fully completed. The twenty mechs and femmes exposed to the Nucleosis awaken, and go through testing. Testing, testing, testing. And unfortunately...the results are positive for Nucleosis. In twelve of them. The theory has proven merit now. But now speculation comes with why it worked with some and not others. Its not a success, but it is a necessity to the treatment of this disease, and in that case, it is absolutely vital. GAME: Warlord PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty. Scales watches over the infected through the long process, while also copying the research onto chits and secreting them away, just in case. Folly eventually tuckers out, the small minibot not known for her efficiency, nor her endurance. Once the mechs settle in for their long sleep, so does she. Ratchet sighs as the medical team makes some advancement, but no miracle cure. Finally, however, he can procrastinate no longer -- something has to be done about Prime. Backblast finally takes a rest after almost three solid days of research. But he doesn't shut down, he simply moves onto brewing an ener-tea over a bunsen burner, and doing some work on his khukri. He disassembles it, seemingly putting a small vial for that Dark Energon cure into the mechanism for charging the edge with activated energon, along with a port to fill it. Scales finishes compiling her information and then curls up to nibble.. yet another energoodie. She's emptied a box all by herself, staying fueled in bites. Warlord sighs. "Well that's all we can do for now, I guess." he sits down, transforming to his root/spidertank mode. "Allw e can do now is wait." Backblast looks over at Scales. "It happens like this sometimes." He says, with a sigh. "We have… something that can help, at least a little." He sniffs, looking over at Ratchet. "You OK?" Ratchet takes a full-out long swig of engex in full view of the others, now that they're all taking a break from research. "Of course I'm not OK," he snaps grouchily. "I'm at worried about Prime as everyone else. I can't wait for Elita One to get back to Iacon so we can confront him. I'm just... I'm not sure what to do if he refuses to step down." There. He said what a lot of Bots have been thinking. He doesn't look happy about it. Backblast sniffs "I know what to do if he doesn't step down." He says, matter-of-factly. He opens up the rack where he stores Kingslayer's extra shells, pulling out one of the knockout darts he used on Doubletap. Scales lets out a sigh... of relief. "I... I was worried people might go along with it.. I mean, Backblast wasn't, but.." She chews on the end of a claw. While she was working on the science, she wasn't thinking of her other problems. But that distraction's no longer as pressing. Ratchet looks aghast as Backblast opens his ammo rack but relaxes slightly when he sees Backblast pull out the knockout dart. Ratchet nods in resigned agreement. "I hope it doesn't come to that," he says hollowly. "I really do." He looks at Scales, optics widening. "I'd hope most Autobots wouldn't go with his... new direction." He glances over at Warlord, almost daring him to disagree. Warlord shrugs. "I mean.. it kinda makes sense but.." He looks around at the others. "But it's not him. Its not the Autobot way an' all that." Backblast shrugs a little, finishing Scales' but for her. "...but I'm a strange one. Do you know how I know what Prime's doing ain't right? I agree with it. I joined the Autobots, under Prime, so that...so that... so that you'd hold me back, stop me becoming like the Decepticons." He admits. It seems almost like the words are dragged out of him. "I hope it doesn't come to that either. But... I don't want the rest of you becoming like me. I'm a warning and... and maybe a damaged spark seeking a bit of redemption." Backblast adds "For better or worse, there are a lot of others, like me, who joined for him. Some of them might follow his new direction." Scales nods. "We really need to find out if it's a... side effect. If it is, then he wouldn't be the only one, right? An there's a few... Unca Grimmy wouldn't care why he's goin' out t'fight.." Scales pauses.. "Oh... but he's also.." Ratchet risks touching Backblast's shoulder again. "You're well on your way," he says quietly, offering his flask. Turning back to Scales, he nods grimly (no pun intended). "I have the same concerns. If Imager is right, over a hundred Autobots have been infected. If they all start acting more aggressive... I've already been treating more wounds from petty fights and the same names do keep popping up. I should cross-reference the lists," he says, turning to pick up a dataPADD. Backblast takes a sipof the flask and hands it back, nodding his thanks to Ratchet. "Good plan. And if the local security forces need it, just tell them to comm me and I can have anyone short of Grimlock knocked out fast." Backblast sends a radio transmission. Scales hehs. "Grimmy might be the one y're needed for," she says, a bit ruefully. "He listens t'me normally, 'cause he likes me. But if he's feelin' fighty..." Backblast sends a radio transmission. Backblast sniffs "Might take... a bit longer for Grimlock." he smirks. Ratchet says, "Trust me, if we need you, I won't hesitate callin'!" Ratchet does seem to be hesitating in confronting Prime at all, however. Backblast looks to Ratchet with an understanding nod. Backblast sends a radio transmission. Warlord grunts. "I'm just glad this hasnt effected people like Megatron or Grimlok or somehtin. Just saying." Backblast nods in agreement "Yup. It's already got Soundwave and he's... useful to me. I've got leverage on him... will have a lot more if we can disseminate a cure. Plus it'll give us a nice dose of moral high ground." Ratchet mutters to himself, "... can... after... Pharma..." Scales shakes herself. "okay. verify first, right? Issit contagion, or is there, like, a fake Prime here givin' orders? I mean, there was that alternate universe a while back." Backblast nods in agreement with Scales. "Agreed." Ratchet shakes his head before putting it in his hands. "Oh, don't even open THAT can of worms. We've had Prime clones, mirror universe Primes, Decepticon-lookalike Primes, and now nucleon-poisioned Prime. Why can't we ever have something useful turn up?" Backblast rests a hand on Ratchett's shoulder. "Coz our prime is the useful one for other universes maybe? When we get all of these fucknuggets, our Prime is off sorting out their 'verse?" Scales coughs. "Right now, though," she interjects. The little dragon looks to Ratchet. "He's under treatment, though. We could call him in, verify. An' if he doesn't wanna come... well, medical gets t'remand people to downtime if necessary." Backblast grins a little more maliciously than is really neccessary. "And enforce it if needed." Warlord chuckles. "Backblast, once again ya are sayin' what Im thinkin. You're right. Our Prime is the best prime. I respect him more then these others." Ratchet hrms, looking around anxiously, although he does calm somewhat at Backblast's reassuring hand on his shoulder. Until, of course, Backblast talked about enforcement. "Do you think we have enough of a team in case things go badly?" He sizes up his little group. Medics, mostly, aside from whatever the hell Warlord is. "If you all think it wise, I'll call him in." Ratchet touches the subspace trigger to his sidearm nervously. GAME: Ratchet PASSES a COURAGE roll of Extreme difficulty. Scales looks around. "Well, I'd feel better if we had a few -more- big bots," she admits. "Here, I'll be right back- I gotta go get some stuff put away in case there's a fight." And she darts out of the room- through the vents. Backblast nods a little. "Yeah." He says, calmly re-assembling his khukri. But it's worth noting - he doesn't fill the vial with dark energon, he fills it with the contents of that knockout dart. Ratchet says, "Alright. I'll ask him in, but let's not push a confrontation just let. Analysis only. See how far this has gone." Scales returns after a bit, covered in dust and cobwebs. Warlord is a soldier with a little bit of tech experience. "Allright then I mean. I can protect you as best I can but we might need a dew more of us bigg'ns." Backblast sniffs and lays Kingslayer on the table in front of him. Perhaps Warlord will be the only one to notice it's ready to fire, loaded with a dart, and positioned to be easy to aim surreptitiously. Ratchet nods. "Alright. Just talking and analysis for now." He gives Backblast a look. "Although, to be honest, I feel a little safer having you all here." <> CMO Ratchet says, "Optimus Prime. Please report to the Iacon Medical Center." Warlord stiffens. "Well. Here goes nothin." He says. Backblast chuckles quietly. "You'd be the first." <> Optimus Prime says, "... On my way." The door hisses open, and you can almost hear the trumpet fanfare as Optimus Prime enters the medbay. Although going by his more recent announcement, the Imperial March might be more in order, indeed. Prime shoulders into the room, gazing about with narrowed yellow optics until his fevered gaze arrives on Ratchet. "What is it, Ratchet, and it better be good. I have a campaign to launch." Scales sits in a corner, carefully wiping herself clean while keeping an optic on the room as they wait for Prime to show up. Ratchet clears his vocalizer and straightens up, moving slightly to shield Scales in case things go badly. "Uh, I wanted to report we've made some progress, Optimus, even after some unexpected sabotage." Smeg - should he have mentioned that? Well, the cybercat's out of the bag now. "We'd wanted - well, I wanted - a chance to look at you. See how your own infection's been advancing. Naturally, we - I'm concerned." Ratchet quakes slightly, looking up at Prime. Backblast stays quiet as he watches Optimus show up, scanning over him for signs of nucleon infection that he might pick up by the naked eye. "We're all concerned, sir." Optimus Prime looks over at Backblast. Prime's fevered yellow optics hint at an advanced infection. "I'm fine," he growls. "I don't have time for this. Do you all have something important to report?" He focuses his glare on Ratchet once more. "I need something to slow the advance of the joint paralysis. If my T-cog goes, I'm going to break your neck," he threatens Ratchet. Looking around at the others again, he demands, "What have you got?" GAME: Scales PASSES a COURAGE roll of Average difficulty. Scales slips over to her work bench and the batches of synthesized antibodies. "We do have a way to slow it, but not reverse what's happened already..." And she begins to combine chemicals... not just the antibodies, but also a tranquilizer. GAME: Optimus Prime PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Very High difficulty. Backblast sighs, quietly, nudging the barrel of Kingslayer slightly in Optimus' direction. "Sir, I'm going to be blunt, and honest with you." He says. "You're suffering from advanced nucleosis, and it's affecting your judgement. You are aggressive, thoughtless, and tactically inept. You are, in short, medically unfit for duties. Stand down, or I *will* relieve you of command - temporarily - by force and place you in quarrantine. Please, take the hard way. Make my day." Warlord moves to help Scales get the supplies she needs. "Right. Prime, with all due respect you should save some of that for the giant hole you're gonna stomp in the next 'Con ya see right?" he offers. Optimus Prime watches Scales suspiciously. "The tranquilizer won't be necessary," he says threateningly. He turns, then, at Backblast's demand. "You think you can take me, punk? I pulled you out of the gutter, and then you turn on me? I should have known better than to trust a cold-energon killer like you. You're a disgrace. Take your shot, if you think you can. It just might be your last." Prime makes a fist, intending to retract it in place of a glowing ax... but then nothing happens. Prime looks down at his hand in shock and anger as his own body betrays him. Ratchet raises his hands, palms out. "Hey hey hey! There's no need for fighting in here..." Warlord moves to back Backblast. "Sir, dont make it hard on everyone here..." He says. Backblast clenches his fist at Optimus' words and then... with every ounce of self-control he has… slowly, very slowly, turns his backon Optimus as he draws his axe. "If that's what you believe, Optimus Prime, yu can try.. Or, alternately, think, just a moment, about what I said earlier. And about the orders you gave." Those in front of him, however, will see him quietly slip his khukri out of its sheath... although he doesn't ignite the blade. Those familiar with the Nepalese blade styles will recognise his grip as defensive - intended primarily for blocking and fast, disabling cuts. GAME: Scales PASSES a COURAGE roll of Average difficulty. Scales is a little shaken by being caught, but she finishes her task without deviating from her purpose.. and is the first to make a move, using her small size to advantage and darting in at Optimus with a dose of both palliative and night-night juice. >> Scales fails her generic combat roll against Optimus Prime. << Optimus Prime looks back up at Backblast as he turns his back on Prime. Prime's yellow optics narrow... but he holds his attack as well. "Your disagreement with my orders has been noted, Backblast. Frankly, I'm ---" Then Scales slips in and attempts to drug him while he's distracted. Almost by reflex, Prime slaps down at Scales, potentially backhanding her into a wall. >> Optimus Prime strikes Scales with Punch. << Ratchet gasps, optics widening, as Prime actually strikes scales. Backblast takes this opportunity to make his strike. The moment Optimus strikes Scales, Backblast's face curls intoa a look of genuine rage and anger. The blade ignites - a cool, icy blue rather than energon cyan - and he lunges forwards, making a lightning-fast slash towards Prime's upper arm. It's not intended to be a particularly wounding cut - although it has to be deep to get enough Knockout Juice into him. "Just... look at yourself!" He spits. "The great Optimus Fucking Prime, striking a defenceless medic! How heroic of you, sir! How noble!" >> Backblast misses Optimus Prime with Khukri. << Warlord sees Prime attack Scales. He doesn't think too much. He motions to Prime and unleashes several human sized...spiders from ports on his side. Gross. "Drones, attack. NOn. Lethal. Restrain him!" the drones launch at Prime, trying to tackle him. >> Warlord misses Optimus Prime with Drone Assault . << Inferno steps through the door just in time to see Prime send Scales flying into the wall, Backblast swing a weapon at Prime, and then the Pit just breaks loose. He was already suspicous of the Autobot LEader from his earlier orders, and hearing him called into Medical the Search and Rescue Medic decided to check things out. NEver one to think too much about hanging back Inferno flings himself into the fray, aiming a fist towards one of Optimus' joints. >> Inferno misses Optimus Prime with Fracture Blow. << Optimus Prime strikes Scales - and then immediately fades back, eluding Backblast's attack through pure reflexes. Warlord's drones crawl all over him, but Prime simply ignores them, a different kind of horror in his optics. He turns from Inferno's attack, looking from Scales to his own hands. "I..." He lowers his head. "Obviously, you're correct, Backblast. Scales, I am deeply sorry." He looks around. "I apologize to all of you. I... clearly, there is something wrong. For now, I resign my command. Contact Star Saber. We will need a warrior to defend us until I recover." He leans heavily against a medtable, shame burning across his famed face. Scales curls around the swat and bounces off the wall, barely keeping her delicate wings from being crumpled. She rolls to her feet, ready to jump back into the fight, and Optimus surrenders. Both relieved and surprised, the little medic goes to retrieve the ampule that rolled away when she was hit. Backblast sets his Khurki down as he sees Optimus back down. "Optimus." He says. "Your words… earlier, they hurt. But I also know it wasn't you saying them. Do you blame a mech with no legs for not walking?" He says. "I... Optimus, one of the first lessons you taught me, one of the first things that set me on this path I'm on, was to forgive others for things that aren't their fault." He looks at his hands. "Because of you, Optimus Prime, I don't know what I am anymore. I was the best hitman on Cybertron. Remorseless. Now listen to me." He grimaces. "Prime help me, I'm starting to develop compassion. I'm never gonna be able to go back to that job. And I'm not angry about it." Backblast says, "Nobody blames you for... for... for what that bastard Pharma's toxin made you do." Ratchet tries to leap in to stop the violence - but he is too old and slow. Before he can fully react, the fight is over. Warlord calls back his drones instantly when Prime's back to normal. "Good. Glad to have you back, Optimus. Its not your fault. We'll handle this. This Star saber guy will keep things in check tilly ou come back." wheover that is. He hopes its a space shuttle with lasers. Space shuttles with lasers are awesome. Inferno doesn't quite 'loom' over Prime but he's not moving away; just in case. Optimus Prime keeps his head lowered. "Toxin or not... I should not have said what I said or done what I did. Your transformation has been inspiring, Backblast, and I can only hope to live up to your example of growing compassion." Prime remains still, not fighting anything Scales wants to do or administer. Scales rubs the dent in her scaley armor. "I c'n blame him a l'l bit," she mutters, handing the dose over to Ratchet, to let the ranking officer make this decision. Backblast looks up at Optimus. "You did something I don't know if I could have, though." He says, softly. "I don't know if, had I gotten that angry, I could've stopped myself. I... need to recharge. We've all been up for nearly three earth days." And with that, he climbs up onto the nearest recovery bed and, cradling his rifle almost like one would a child or something one's very life depends on, starts to recharge. Ratchet takes the drug from Scales. He approaches Prime carefully, shooting an appreciative glance at Inferno. Preparing a hyperspray, he presses it against Prime's upper arm, just below the Autobot symbol. Warlord grunts. "Well things seem under control. That could have gone very badly. Sorry for the spiders, Prime. If you find one in your armor later, its probably clenaing. They do that." Inferno nods to Ratchet. "Now that the fracas is over..." He eyes Optimus again. "Would someone mind telling me exactly -WHAT_ in the name of Primus is going on?" As the tranquilizer takes effect, Optimus Prime visibly relaxes, his head hanging heavily. "I don't blame you, Scales," he says softly. "And I will forever be sorry for striking you without thinking." Prime carefully checks over his armor, extracting a spider straggler and offering it over to Warlord with incredible care. Scales nods tiredly to Prime, her color changing optics paler than usual. She goes to Inferno and leans against his foot. "Side effect, we think. Of th'nucleon stuff goin' round." She summoned up everything she had, and now she's a worn out little dragon. Warlord takes the spider. "There you are eight. I was wondering where you went to." he nods to Prime. "Thanks, they can be a bit curious." he pets it before returning it to a hatch. Springer enters the medical center after having been out of the city for a long.. his armor torn up a bit but nothing overly major and stops just inside the entrance as he looks around, optics falling on Scales. "Do I even wish to know what is going on?" Ratchet looks over from his very large and dangerous patient. "Pharma engineered a disease based on nucleon. It makes you stronger and faster, but also more aggressive and short-tempered. Pharma accidentally infected Imager, who infected... well, a lot of folks. Maybe even you. Even worse, prolonged infection permanently destroys your T-cog and your body's ability to process a new one. You lose your altmode entirely." Ratchet looks around at his group of exhausted techs. "We've been working on a cure." Ratchet himself smells like engex. Inferno nods to Ratchet, "I see." He spares a glance for Scales before looking back to his superior. "How long have all of you been trying to figure that out? Because from the looks of it it's been a while, so I'm about ready to order you all off to recharge." Optimus Prime looks ashen and ashamed, head down and clearly drugged. His optics are unusually yellow and he appears to be having trouble remaining upright. "M'sorry," he keeps muttering, although it's no longer readily apparently to whom he's apologizing. "I never meant to..." He reaches to his right suddenly, knocking over a large piece of equipment. ' '"Hey!" Ratchet grouses. "I needed that!" Scales blinks up at Inferno, and, as if on cue, yawns widely, all teeth showing. "been a while," she admits. Springer simply stands at the entrance, arms crossed as he watches "Alright!" Ratchet announces. "Inferno is right! Team, all of you to your recharge beds - now! Inferno, Springer - help me get Commander Sleepy here into a quarantine bay. He can sleep it off until we figure out what to do with him and the hundred-aught other Autobots infected with this danged disease!" Ratchet curses Pharma under his breath for the maybe-millionth time. Scales gets the order to rest and curls up on the closest flat surface- which happens to be the top of Inferno's foot. Inferno stops long enough to pick Scales up and put her onto a recharging bed; only then does he help Ratchet get Op into quarantine. "Would you mind being a security detail here in the medical center for a while, Springer? Just in case..." Springer is still a bit lost but does as requested, putting Prime to bed.. and giving him the 'Im watching you' finger pointing before he nods to Inferno, "I have no other duties at the moment. And we definitely need to make sure no 'accidents' happen again." After he helps move the dragon-abuser to a bed he moves back to the entrance and takes up a position to one side, arms crossing. Optimus goes along quietly. He's put to bed and forefielded into place, safe even if he has another attack. Ratchet thanks the others and then sits down to write a report, looking exhausted and rather haggard as well. Inferno taps Ratchet on the shoulder when he begins working on the report. Gives the Chief Medical Officer a stern look and points to one of the empty recharge beds. Ratchet looks up at Inferno. "Someone needs to report about what happened here tonight!" he complains, not used to being on the other side of this conversation. Springer raises a hand at Ratchet's comment, "Not me." Inferno almost growls. "It. Will. Keep. Don't make me get Springer to hold you down while I take efforts to make sure you get your rest." Ratchet stands back up. "It will NOT keep. This is the command of the Autobot forces we're talking here! Now, let me make a quick report, and then I'll go to bed!" Springer growls a bit himself, a bit annoyed at seeing a roughed up Scales and looks to Rachet, "I will happily drop everyone into a bed if I have to.. I just put our leader into one, so don't think me putting you will work better. I've seen your 'quick reports'. Inferno can handle the reports just fine." He then settles back into place, leaning against the wall next to the exit and just glowers at anyone and everyone.. well, not Scales. Even he isnt that annoyed. Inferno glares at his superior. "Fine. Five kliks to get the basics down and then you're recharging like the rest of the crew. We can't have any of you down longer than necessary right now. I'll catch up on things and make sure to get one of you up if something dire happens." Of course, this is Inferno's definition of 'dire' that we'll be using. Ratchet glowers at Inferno. "Fine!" He turns to his station and hits a button. Speaking into a small camera, he reports, "CMO Ratchet here. We worked for several cycles on a cure. Haven't reached it yet, but we've made some progress. More importantly, Optimus Prime has relinquished control of the Autobots and accepted medication and quarantine. He said to place Star Saber in charge of defense until his recovery - we'll have to head out to Victory soon and consult with him as to what happens next." Ratchet gives Inferno a dirty look and then concludes, "I'm getting some rest and then I'll see as to what to do with Prime and the other infected. Ratchet OUT." He practically slams his hand down to end the recording. Log session ending at 00:58:38 on Saturday, 25 May 2019.